


begin again

by marvelleous



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Fluff, season five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 10:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12957705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelleous/pseuds/marvelleous
Summary: They spoke of their relationship like an unlikely possibility, never allowed to develop until whatever mess they were in was over. But Phil is tired of waiting, and he can only hope that Melinda is ready to listen.





	begin again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Plechka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plechka/gifts).



When it's all done and dusted, the future saved and the apocalypse prevented, their return home is fairly anticlimactic. It takes all of seconds before they're transported to their own time, the clothes on their backs and the little trinkets they brought in their pockets are the only trace that they had ever left at all.

They don't all go their separate ways, as they had entertained while living through the hardships of a post-apocalyptic future, but stick together, having proven once again that they were better as a team.

Phil does decide that they deserve a break; they had after all, saved all of humanity.

It's thanks to Fitz’s efforts that their names have been cleared in the present, and they're able to move about freely once more. Their first course of action is to take a vacation somewhere hot, on a white sandy beach with the waves of the ocean lapping at the shore.

He's not sure about the rest of his team, but Phil hasn't taken a vacation in years. The last time he had even considered such a thing was before his death, another time, a different woman at his side. Now he’s here with the one woman he's been in love with for three decades, and he’s not really sure how to go about it.

Melinda seems to be in a good mood, all things considered, but it's as though she's withdrawn back into her own shell, all the progress they had made with their relationship during their time together in the future wiped away. Throughout their entire career they had spoken of maybes and what ifs, always pushing their feelings aside for one reason or another. He's not even sure how many times they've made an agreement, a promise, to do something about it when the job was done.

Somehow, they never really reached that stage.

There would always be another mission, another problem they had to deal with, and he wonders if this mess they're trying to get out of is a metaphor for their lives.

He's seen what the world looks like after destruction, and he knows how it feels to die. In this moment, both feel painless in comparison to the turmoil he has over their relationship, whatever it is. They've both already survived so much in their lives, but even through their worst moments, they've had one another.

His biggest fear in truly admitting how he feels for her is that they'll end up losing each other over it, and that scares him more than anything.

 

* * *

 

It's past midnight and he's pacing up and down the hallway, footsteps silent against the plush carpet of the hotel floor. Melinda had disappeared into her room shortly after dinner, and he's been trying to build up the courage to start up a conversation with her ever since.

He pauses outside her door, momentarily distracted by the number carved into the wood. There's no sound coming from the other side, and he assumes she's probably asleep, exhaustion bearing down on all of them. It's the first night they've had an opportunity to sleep without the fear of constant danger lurking around the corner.

Even if she is still awake, he has a feeling she wants to be alone, to process her own thoughts. He cares not what anyone else says; Melinda has had the toughest time of all of them. Her leg injury is mostly healed, but he knows it still bothers her a little, as valiantly as she tries to hide it from the rest of the team. She spent longer in the framework than any of them, suffered more than he could ever imagine, and at the end of the day she's still here.

The selfish part of him had been so afraid she would walk away when they got back, and he thinks any sane person wouldn't have stayed. He can't imagine what's keeping her here, besides her sense of duty towards their organisation, which has already fallen twice in the span of half a decade.

Phil stands there, staring at her door for a moment longer before turning away, ready to head back to his own room. He hears a soft click before he can take a single step, and turns to see Melinda standing in her doorway, wrapped in a hotel robe, damp hair clinging to the side of her face.

“You're going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing around out there,” she mutters, stepping back far enough for him to enter. He folds his hands behind his back, awkwardly shifting past her, standing in silence until she has the door shut behind them.

She looks up at him expectantly, a mixture of exasperation and an expression that is so soft he cannot find the words to describe it.

“I didn't want to disturb you,” he tells her, unable to help a small smile when she rolls her eyes at him, walking past to sit down on her bed and patting the spot beside her.

“If you really didn't want to disturb me you wouldn't be wandering around like a bull in a china shop right outside my door.”

She smirks, reaching out and placing a hand over his knee. He has no idea how to respond, and hopes his face isn't as red as he feels it is, embarrassed and nervous about his current situation. Her eyes seem to be asking a million different questions, and he clears his throat half a dozen times before speaking.

“I wanted to talk about us.”

The mood in the room shifts immediately, and he worries that he's said the wrong thing, until she nods, hand gently squeezing his knee in a gesture of comfort.

“We’ve postponed this conversation for so many years, always trying to find the right moment, always looking for a time when there's no trouble around us. The fact is, that part of our lives will never really be over. I don't want to wait any longer.”

He pauses then, trying to gauge her reaction, but as usual, her expression is almost entirely indecipherable.

_Almost._

“When I said that I'd earned a night in my own bed, it didn't mean that I wanted to spend it alone.”

Her voice is low when she speaks, a string of words that confirm to him how she truly feels about all of this, about him. She's quiet now, clearly having said all that she intends to, waiting for him to make the next move.

There’s no more imagined possibilities for them, no more waiting around for a disaster to occur, because they've accepted that it's inevitable.

When he leans forward to kiss her, nothing else in the world matters, only the way their lips press together, her hands reaching for purchase against his shirt and his arms around her to draw her closer. A part of him thinks about how idiotic it was that they never did this sooner, but there's no point in mulling over past mistakes.

What's important is here and now, and that they're together.

She pulls him beneath the covers with her, and though they do little but kiss and hold one another, it's more than either of them could have ever hoped for. They curl around one another, limbs entangled, her head tucked beneath his chin, and he whispers to her all the things he wishes he had told her earlier.

That she meant everything to him.

He falls asleep to the sound of her voice reciprocating his confessions, the warmth of her body against his, and the familiar, comforting scent of her all around.


End file.
